Over the summer, we were fortunate to spend time with our grandchildren. One of their favorite outings was a rock climbing gym in Katy.

This past weekend, our son, Chris, decided he wanted to take a look because his children talked non-stop about their climbing adventures.

When he was young, Chris fearlessly climbed everything, and I remember taking him to a rock climbing gym when he was in Cub Scouts where he fearlessly scaled every wall he was old enough to tackle.

That fearlessness was evident in his children as they climbed to the top of all the walls in an area set up for younger children and teens.

This time, dad was along, and the older children wanted to climb the bigger walls.

The only way to do that was to have an adult take a belay class to learn how to hold the ropes and assist climbers up and down the walls.

Chris readily volunteered and, after an hour, he was certified. The older two children headed off to find a wall while the younger ones played in a room right next to the grown-up climbing area.

The only open beginner spot was at the end of the wall, but we figured the site would be a good starting point. Our eldest granddaughter went first, and I swallowed hard seeing how high the wall was.

She carefully started up the wall and, about three fourths of the way up, looked down and froze. The distance between her and the ground was at least 30 feet, and it was the highest she’d ever been.

Her dad quickly realized the predicament she was in, and he coaxed her to come down. At first, she didn’t want to, but she eventually made her way back down to the ground.

By the time she was in arms’ reach, Chris pulled her to him and reassured her she’d done a great job.

But she’d been spooked by the height, rightly so, and said she wasn’t going back up.

Most of us have been scared by something in our lives – a horse bucked while we were riding, an unexpected fender bender makes us nervous every time we get behind the wheel or we find ourselves avoiding situations out of our comfort zone.

We knew the only way Kylie could conquer her fear was to go back up, but that’s a tall order for a 10-year-old.

As she sat next to us, shaking, her dad told her she didn’t have to go back up unless she wanted to. Silently, she kept looking at the wall, apprehension evident in her eyes.

After a few minutes, she stood up and said she wanted to try again. But she asked if her dad could move the rope over to a section that wasn’t on the end. She said not being able to put her foot on a foothold was what spooked her.

He hooked her up to the ropes and told her to go for it. We watched her take a deep breath and begin climbing.

Both of us had tears in our eyes as that brave young girl went all the way to the top of the wall. She came down with a huge smile on her face, and her dad spun her around and around, telling her how proud he was of her for going back up that wall.

Conquering our fears isn’t easy to do, but when we do, we’re left with a feeling of accomplishment no one can take away from us.

Buoyed with confidence, we can take chances and go beyond what’s comfortable because we did something we were scared to do.

And we survived.

Step by step, Kylie beat back her fear and emerged triumphant.

I hope she knows how proud we all are of her. But more importantly, I hope she understands how proud she should be of herself.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.